


Of Blood and Bodies

by UnbridledArtist



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Anxiety, Blood Magic, Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Eventual Romance, Fade Spirits, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Orlais (Dragon Age), Slow Burn, Tension, The Fade, There is a lot of angst in this story friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnbridledArtist/pseuds/UnbridledArtist
Summary: My name is Zachary, I am a mage of uncanny origins,  trained by Wisdom herself. I have studied at the University of Orlais,  stood toe-to-toe in the Game with the Empress, and escaped the clutches of a man intent on destroying the Chantry.I am a fugitive, a coward, a fighter, a survivor. I wield the might of the storm, and wear its name as a mask.L’Orage.A rumoured murderer and companion to the Champion of Kirkwall, protector of the downtrodden, friend to the just.I am both of these men, and my story isn't done yet. It's only just begun.
Relationships: Male Hawke/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I admit I have no idea what I am doing half the time I am writing and if it wasn't of Livjnoodles on Tumblr then this story would be a dumpster fire of doom. She did all my editing, check out her art blog here: https://livcollinsart.tumblr.com/  
> Also, I do have Tumblr's as well:  
> Art: https://unbridledartistartblog.tumblr.com/  
> The dumpster fire that is my personal blog: https://unbridledartist.tumblr.com/
> 
> Maybe I will write ficlets in the future... that will need its own blog though methinks.

_**Chapter 1**_  
I do not know how long I have been in the Fade.  
Time twists here, strange and stagnant, leaving me all but suspended within it. I forgot basic needs and wants, like hunger, thirst, or sleep. I felt like my life had been mundane before arriving here, thus I had nothing to truly compare the sensation to. Perhaps the closest approximation could be found in the space between waking and dreams. Imagine for a moment you are in bed not fully awake, but not asleep. You are simply present. You know where you are, and you are comfortable; time doesn't seem to matter. You could lie here for an eternity and it would scarcely make a difference.  
Gwen, a spirit of wisdom, had become my closest friend in this place, along with a spirit of compassion, whom I have dubbed Adelaide. Adelaide was the spirit who brought me to see Wisdom. I spent most of my time within Gwen’s domain: a great library, hungrily absorbing as much of her knowledge and teachings as I could.  
Nonetheless, I think my situation frustrated Gwen. We have been through every one of her books. I have learned a lot because of this, as it turns out I didn't even have to read the book to obtain the knowledge inside it. I think that's the way she made them, though. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn this the easy way. I mistakenly touched a tome about elven Arcane Warriors, and learned everything an Arcane Warrior spent their lives learning in just a matter of moments; it left my head pounding for what felt like a lifetime.  
Gwen scolded me for touching her books, but after I explained that I wanted to help her find a way to get me back to the world of the waking, instead of her doing all the work she calmed down some. After that, she started bringing me books that my mind could handle. I learned a lot about magic this way; I even learned Elvish and Orlesian.  
I flopped onto the couch, that was tucked among the bookshelves. Gwen made it after I had told her what they were made of and what they were for, much to my delight. I flipped open a book on Ferelden History, and began my perusal. My memories were becoming faded, as my connection to my old life weakened, and it became harder and harder to recall them as time went on. If not for books like this one, I would most likely have forgotten my life.  
Not that this life was a bad one. I had infinite time and knowledge at my fingertips, so I never wanted for amusement. When I was not learning practical skills, I was reading. It was most likely the only thing keeping me sane.  
Gwen was kind in the schoolteacher kind of way. Perhaps the teacher you accidentally call ‘mom’ in class. She approached and I moved my legs for her to sit.  
"Zachary, magic is something you find to be of interest. Would you perhaps like to learn about it?" Gwen was always level-headed, and incredibly practical. She was a spirit of wisdom after all. She held great respect for those who wanted to learn, to expand their opinions and consider another view of things; but Gwen wouldn't suggest something for me to do without cause. Perhaps she felt that in the Fade it was best to know how to defend myself in the best way possible. She was right though; I found the topic highly intriguing.  
"Of course I want to learn about magic!" I eagerly leapt up in delight, leaving my book forgotten on the couch. I felt like a child with too much energy and having received the very best gift in the world. "Will you be teaching me?" I asked facing her again having nearly missed that she didn't offer herself as a teacher for such a daunting task. The small glimmer of amusement in her eyes gave me hope. She chuckled.  
"I suppose in the art of magic any spirit can teach you the basics, however, I suppose I would be the best to school you." I gave a celebratory whoop; this made her laugh.  
Magic was difficult. I don't know what possessed me into thinking that just some twiddling of my fingers and a little imagination would make it work. No, there was a science to it. There were times I got so frustrated with all the book work and the studying I would get up and walk away. There were thousands of volumes just for theory alone. It was a lifetime of work Gwen was attempting to teach me in what felt like minutes, or was it years? Regardless, I had a lot of theory to learn before applying myself to actually casting.  
We also learned that just because the knowledge was in my brain after absorbing one of her books, it did not mean I understood what was in them. Also, that doing one thing constantly was not good for someone like me, so I needed frequent breaks. I had a long way to go.  
In the times I took as breaks, I learned a lot about the history of Thedas, about the Elvhen and how the empire was crumbling before the humans of Tevinter even thought about taking over the remains. About the Dread Wolf and how he raised the Veil up, trapping the Creators and Forgotten Ones behind it, ending the war. I had the theory that the elven race, though likely dying now, would have been wiped out completely. At least, however long it’s been since then, they now had a fighting chance, despite human society working against them at every turn.  
Partway through my current bout of studying, Adelaide came in with another spirit, one that I didn't know. I closed my book and waved the two of them over.  
"Adel, who is your friend?" Adelaide huffed at my name for her. Both she and Gwen had disliked the names at first. Then I told them of their basis, marks of individuality and endearment, and they grudgingly accepted them.  
"I am a spirit of Valour! Why is it that you call Compassion something that she is not?" He was loud. I blinked a few times at the sound of another male voice, and the fact that he made my ears ache.  
"Nice to meet you Valour. I call Compassion Adelaide so that I can tell the difference between her and other spirits of compassion. Adelaide means 'noble kind.' I thought it fit rather well." I defended my intentions, but before Valour could question me further, Adelaide told him enough.  
"Zachary, I brought Valour here in hopes he would teach you how to fight." I nodded my head in understanding. My magic theory was good and all, but in action, it was different. I hadn't had the chance to use the skills I learned in a more practical setting.  
"He agreed so long as you prove yourself." At that, I blanked. That might be a bit of a problem. I am a little cowardly. Yet, I smiled at him after a moment.  
"I can try."  
Training with Valour was interesting, to say the least. He was always pushing me to my limits and, seeing as I didn't have a body to feel basic needs, we didn't know if I could feel pain. As it turned out, I certainly could. No, I didn't feel muscle pain from doing physical work, but I did feel pain if it came from something with the intent to hurt me. Therefore, learning how to fight was a painful experience. The spirit made it a point to ingrain the fighting skills into me to the point where my body would never forget the feel of a sword in one hand and a staff in the other.  
Valour taught me many battlefield-related skills ranging from hand to hand combat, to working with weapons, but the skills he taught were what I would call 'honourable'. No dirty tricks. Also, no magic. I suppose he was leaving that to Gwen.  
Names where interesting. I liked to give them to the spirits I had grown close to; it made this whole experience in the Fade more real when it often didn't feel that way. It also made it less confusing when coming across other spirits, and that often happened with Valour. I needed a name for him.  
"Face your fear, do not hold back!" Valour yelled at me from the side-lines as I fought a demon of despair. It was not the first time I had fought demons, but it was the first demon of despair and it was devastating on my emotions, setting a core of cold dread deep within me.  
I knew I had died at some point, and that is how I got here to begin with. I had left a life behind: a mother, father, brother, and a sister. And a fair few friends that I can recall from the fuzzy memories I had. The ache of despair made it difficult for me to push these thoughts of loss from my mind.  
Yet, Valour yelled his encouragement, drawing me back to the present. He stood a good distance away from the fight so as not to interfere with my learning. I was getting frustrated with both Valour and the demon, but also myself. I closed my eyes for a moment and emptied my mind. Opening my eyes once more, I moved out of my cover that protected me from the icy cold ray Despair would conjure. I dodged nimbly to the left, and launched a hasty fireball in its direction. The screech that came from it was nearly deafening, but it had already done so several times in an attempt to distract me, it had worked the first few times. I immediately moved towards it as fast as I could, hurling out another spell, feeling the deep chill of its icy projectiles skimming past me. One final dash and I was within range; I lifted my sword, and with my own furious yell, lopped its head clean off.  
I stood still for a moment, watching the tainted spirit meld back into the Fade, no longer able to keep its form. The name for Valour came to me then.  
"Victor." I turned to face Valour then. "I think I will call you Victor."  
It seemed Victor liked having a name. Every time I addressed him by it, he would grace me with a broad smile.  
Some amorphous Fade days later, Adelaide startled me by sitting at my feet during one of my study breaks with Gwen, I was too focused on the book of Orlesian history to notice her approach. She smiled at me in amusement. I rolled my eyes at her. She had been a good friend, always willing to help me with my problems. Having someone to lean on and talk to about my troubles was all I needed most of the time. She took it all in like a sponge in water.  
But today, she offered help of a different kind. She pulled out a set of daggers and placed them on the couch next to me. I admired them for a moment; they were very nice blades. I lifted a brow at her. She made these, that much I could tell, but she had her own favourite set on her belt.  
“I want to teach you how to fight like I do.” Adelaide made a simple statement, but it meant a lot. Victor was good for fighting overall, he taught me how to use a sword and staff, so far, my favourite combo, as well as a variety of other weapons, but Adelaide fought ‘dishonourably’ according to Victor. Rogue versus Knight I supposed. I smiled at her. Yes, her style was different from Victor’s but all’s fair in war, right?  
I now had a very comprehensive list of magical skills. Elemental magics came easily to me, but healing not so much. Gwen assured me that was normal. Healing magic was the most difficult to learn, after all. I could safely say that I could heal bumps and bruises, but anything more than that, especially in the middle of a battle, I might cause more harm than good. Lightning magic was a personal favourite and comparatively easy to master, especially with my sword as a conductor. Gwen thought that perhaps I might have an affinity for it. It wasn’t uncommon for a mage to favour one element over another.  
Adelaide and Victor would sometimes squabble like an old married couple over who’s techniques in battle were better, but I found my style of fighting through the both of them. I favoured a longsword in my dominant hand and a staff in the other, lighter armour for faster movement, and magic to boost my fighting skills. I favoured using shields and self-haste spells. lacing my blades with an element of my choice. It didn’t leave a lot of room for other spells, but I didn’t necessarily need my magic to be deadly. That is where the physical weapons came into play.  
The first time I used a self-haste spell both Adelaide and Victor bemoaned the fact that I had done so. They claimed it was cheating, and that was rich coming from Adelaide. I could only laugh at them, but the effects of haste spells were strange. Here in the Fade everything appeared to slow down. The slash of a blade that was once too fast for the eye to catch became no more than a languid arc. My ‘body’ moved at the same speed as everyone else, but my mind was working a mile a minute. Gwen told me that whatever I did wasn’t a haste spell and I learned about the actual spell right there, and learned the differences. We didn’t know what to call the spell I had apparently just created, so I dubbed it self-haste for simplicity.  
Yet, despite my rigorous training, and, frankly, impressive new arsenal of skills, I found myself woefully unprepared for what came next.  
There was a darkness within the air that day, a discordant ripple of danger.  
“Something is –”  
“Wrong,” said Gwen from beside me.  
I stood, turning around in a slow circle. My eyebrows came together in thought as I attempted to pinpoint its source; the Fade was rippling with foreign energy. I turned to Gwen, who sat next to me, her brow knit just like mine.  
"I feel it as well." I watched as she stood. "Someone is coming." I took that as a bad thing, normally Gwen and I would welcome fellow spirits as guests, but this felt different. Powerful, not that Gwen wasn't powerful, this just felt... negative…demonic.  
I pulled out my sword and my quarterstaff and waited. Out of habit, I took a deep breath. Soon enough Adelaide and Victor came tumbling into the library looking a little frazzled. They had barely had enough time to move our way before a demon of desire and a few rage demons were at their heels. Adelaide and Victor stood in front of me, effectively blocking me from their view. Gwen took a step forward.  
"What is it that you want Desire?" I am not all that surprised that Gwen is so calm in this situation. This was a domain of Wisdom, after all. She could send Desire through a maze with so many tricks and riddles that it would make the demon want to go back the way she came.  
"Oh, don't play dumb Wisdom it doesn't suit you. You know very well why I am here. I want that soul you have been keeping as a pet for the last little while. You see, I was summoned to find a soul to fill a body." I didn't like the sounds of 'summoned' or 'fill a body' for that matter. It sounded an awful lot like blood magic, an art my lessons had taught me to distrust. Gwen and I had gone over the basics of it, it was a method of using magic after all, but it left me deeply uncomfortable. Using one’s own blood was one matter, but with the blood of others at hand, it left far too much room for terrible people to do terrible things.  
Adelaide appeared to notice my distress, and held out her hand to me. I brushed the back of my sword hand against it and felt the instant wash of calm.  
"Hmm. Who summoned you?" Gwen asked, her tone still steely calm.  
"A human mage, pathetic thing really, I intend to take over his body once I am done with you." Its sickly smooth tone sent shivers up my spine and knotted my stomach into a tangle of dread. Gwen, however, remained unphased. It was amazing how she could get all this information out of a demon without it lying to her, then again what would a demon gain from lying to the other spirit? Nothing.  
That is when I saw the rage demons.  
While Desire was keeping us distracted, they were slinking around to a flanking position. I tapped Victor's leg with my quarterstaff, gaining his attention. I nodded my head towards one of the flaming creatures of Rage. He scoffed.  
"Do you think such cowardly tactics will work on us demons! Do not take us lightly fools! I will not let harm come to Zachary!" He bellowed the words out like a battle cry. He readied his massive two-handed sword in preparation to fight, Adelaide pulled out a set of daggers at the same time as Victor. Gwen was now next to me. I watched as the surrounding area became a maze, the once cosy furniture twisting and melding into impenetrable walls. I lifted my middle finger at the desire demon as a towering bookcase blocked her off from the four of us.  
"We do not have much time before they find a way to get to us," Gwen said, turning on her heel to look behind us. I did the same. "You must leave. The demons and their summoner want to use you and control you. I know of only one way to prevent such a thing from happening. I also doubt that the mage responsible will stop at just sending these demons.” Gwen started to move forward at a staggeringly fast dash, and I hurried to match her pace. I was becoming more confused by the moment.  
“Gwen, slow down, what are you talking about?” I asked. Adelaide and Victor kept pace with me standing guard as we sped through the maze of Gwen’s domain.  
“The mage responsible has cast a very complex blood magic ritual to create a being of flesh and magic. The spell he has cast will bind the soul within to his will. He will be relentless in obtaining a soul, and you are one such soul, an easy target for the corrupted spirits to bring to him. I only know of one way to end this. You will enter that body he has made of your own accord, preventing the demons from binding you to his will. It is extremely important to keep the demons away from you when entering this body.” I blinked a few times; the realisation of what Gwen was suggesting hit me hard. I was leaving. There was no other way around it. I felt a hand on my shoulder pull me out of my shock. I stared back into Adelaide’s kind eyes.  
“We will be with you every step of the way Zachary.” I could feel the shift in my emotion as Adelaide’s touch calmed me down, settling my emotions. The grief that would have suddenly hit me like a charging bull was swept temporarily away, and I was left with peace. Adelaide would not leave me unless she had to.  
“The three of you will be in my dreams, right?” Adelaide and Victor both smiled, giving me their assurances.  
"I will not,’ Gwen said softly. “This is my domain. I will not leave it for demons to desecrate. I would rather the knowledge I have gathered be lost than used for their deviant ways." She placed her hand on a wall, creating a magical doorway, a portal of sorts, swirling with a deep, purple magic.  
"I will stay with Wisdom." I turned to Victor as he spoke. He glanced over at Gwen. "It is not within your nature to fight, so I will fight for you. May my blade protect you." I should have expected that one, I nodded my head to him. It was in his nature to fight.  
"If you stay with Wisdom, I will help Zachary. I think it fitting really, I helped him when he arrived and now, I shall help him as he leaves."  
I remember meeting Adelaide for the first time. She was kind, and I was very, very afraid, and perhaps—no, certainly—a little naive. Yes, Gwen’s domain was a home for me, but Adelaide was the one to bring me there. I smiled a little sadly. I had to leave, I had to leave these wonderful people.  
"Thank you." The words were rushed, and I choked over them a little, and I turned quickly away in an effort to hide my anguish. I took a deep breath, and stepped through the gate before me.  
Going through the portal was easy, and there were, in fact no visible demons on the other side. The place it led to felt…off. The space looked like a ritual room. Morbid and twisted, a dark red portal stood in its centre. I flinched at the thought of its power source. Blood, a lot of blood, was leaving a portal into the Fade open.  
There were a lot of sensations going on around the room, none of them good. I could feel malice, hate, pain, and fear all at the same time. The Fade mimicked the mortal plane when it could, and whatever happened around that portal was bad. I looked to Adelaide and she gave a nod of encouragement. I took several, tentative steps forward, caution in our movements prepared for the worst to happen.  
The worst happened.  
Suddenly, all kinds of demons poured forth from the very walls, some wreathed in flames, others drifted forward, skull-like maws open in hungry screams.  
Adelaide and I dispatched as many as we could. Shade after shade, demon after demon. I felt the exhaustion settling into my core as more approached. Adelaide had her back to me as I stood sickeningly close to the roiling blood portal.  
I threw a glance over my shoulder, to see her face set in grim determination. As she caught my gaze, her back straitened, and I knew, with plummeting dread, exactly what she was going to say.  
“Zachary, you must go now. Move faster than they can, I know you are capable. I will keep them distracted.”  
“Okay.” It was all I could say, I couldn’t even manage a goodbye.  
I moved then, drawing on those familiar magics, watching the world slow around me. Adelaide moved too, rushing into the crowd of demons, twin blades flashing. As I moved through the portal, I was helpless, and could only watch as a pride demon caught Adelaide in its fearsome grasp.  
I let out a silent scream as it tore her asunder.  
The pain of going through the portal was intense. For the first time in a long time pain was bone deep, muscles pulled and burned. I blacked out.  
I groaned out loud as I gained consciousness. I wasn't in the Fade any longer, that much I could feel. My body felt heavy, gravity now playing a part in reality. I took a moment to breathe, but it might have been a mistake. The smell of death and decay, and iron invaded my senses. Even breathing through my mouth left the pungent taste of death on my tongue. I nearly gagged at the putrid stench.  
I lay where I was for a while as the last few memories of my time in the Fade came swimming back to me. Adelaide died, she died, and for all I knew Gwen and Victor could be dead as well. I could feel the tears beginning to run down my new-found flesh. I could feel my nose start to stuff as the tears continued to flow, blocking the metallic tang of blood and rot. I opened my eyes to come face to face with a man grinning from ear to ear. Threads of saliva glistened between his lips, and his eyes, behind an ornate mask, were hollow, and steely cold.  
I glared at him. He stood around average height, and with perfect posture, his hair dark, but peppered with grey. His clothes looked pristine, and his hands were covered in blood. Notably not a speck made it to his very white outfit.  
Ignoring him for a moment I looked around the room. The smell of death now had a source; I couldn’t count how many dead bodies were scattered about the space. Beyond that, the room was rather Orlesian in style, blue walls, gold leaf and plaster deco on the ceiling. This would have been a rather beautiful room if not for the swathes of blood and corpses.  
“Finally.” His tone was triumphant, his voice as smooth as slime. "You're awake!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zachary finds himself in a dangerous situation. How will he handle the grief of losing a friend? Will he escape the clutches of the mage responsible for her death?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot that happens in this chapter.  
> Liv took a long time editing this chapter, Saint among women she is. Find her on Tumblr at livjnoodles!  
> I also have a Tumblr but it's a mess, find me at Unbridledartist.

**_Chapter 2_**

I watched as demons moved about the room, shifting the corpses scattered around me. I remained on the stone slab in the centre of the space, still weak and shaken as I was. I felt odd; this body, my body, was different from that of my, I suppose, previous life. It felt awkward, unfamiliar. I slowly flexed my fingers, watching their movement, and had the startling sensation of staring down at the hands of another. The nails were perfectly sculpted, befitting of nobility, the skin smattered with an alien pattern of freckles. 

I let my gaze wander over to the mage, the man responsible for all of this. He stood hunched over a bowl of water in the corner methodically rinsing the blood from his hands. He then brusquely dried them with a cloth that a demon held out to him. He moved closer to me not even paying attention to the dead bodies in his way, occasionally treading on the hems of clothing, or outstretched hands.

“It is good to see you awake.” He gave a smug smile, clearly pleased with the outcome of his ritual. Another demon approached with a bundle of folded fabric and handed it to me. I reluctantly accepted it after realizing that the Shade wouldn’t leave until I did. There were three other shades here, dragging some human and even some elven bodies out of the room, with all the care of a street vendor lugging a heavy sack of potatoes.

Victor’s training kept me on edge; my heart drummed in my chest, and I felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline in my limbs, yet my hands remained steady.

“My name is Baron Aldric, you are to serve me.” I stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond. I nearly attempted to throw a spell at him, but my situation gave me pause. I was at a disadvantage; my body couldn’t move the way I wanted it to. My limbs were weak and wouldn’t respond the way my training allowed until I put it through the motions. I also recalled Gwen stating that, without demon intervention, I would have full control over my actions once in the physical plane. It’s likely he still thought I would follow his will. “Perhaps you do not understand me.” He said. I watched his hand drift languidly to a dagger at his belt. I sat up straighter. Opening the fabric bundle that was handed to me and finding that it was a robe. I slid from the stone slab, stumbling awkwardly on new feet, before slipping the robe on.

“That is unnecessary. I can understand you.” Even my voice was foreign and strange. It felt unused and my throat sore. He looked surprised at my co-operation, and put the dagger back into its sheath.

“Good then, you appear to be smarter than my previous experiments. Perhaps you will actually be useful. I have intentions to remove the Chantry from its seat of power, and I will use you to do so.” He looked pleased. “We will begin tomorrow.” This man, there was really something wrong with him. I felt that there were pieces of the puzzle missing. There had to be more to him. What could drive him to this senseless slaughter? All of it for a drone of a servant to follow his every whim, with no regard for their autonomy. 

“What do you intend to do to those that run this Chantry?” I needed more information, something to explain his blatant disregard for life, something to alleviate the twisting chill that had settled in my stomach at his complete, frigid cruelty. 

“I am glad you asked. The Chantry is an idea, and ideas are carried by people, thus they must be eliminated, their chains on our lives broken. I have a few ways of going about it, but demonic possession seems the most sure-fire, and is particularly fitting for the Divine.” He once again fixed me with that terrible smile, a grimace of unrepentant glee. I stared back coldly. He continued to muse and mumble over the kinds of things he would inflict onto the clergy of the Chantry for the next several minutes. I attempted to tune him out and began to plan my escape. 

“I need time to make this body function to my needs.” I said, interrupting his rant. “It is weak.” This much was true, I did need time to rehabilitate. My limbs felt wooden, neglected, unused, but it could have also been that I hadn't actually had a physical body in Maker only knows how long.

He seemed to ponder my words and nodded after a moment.

“I suppose I could put a hold on my plans. After all, you are the key to my success, and I need you at your most useful state. How long do you need?” 

“Two months.” Truthfully, I had no idea, but I hoped that it was enough time to regain my strength, then get out of dodge before things got bad.

Five minutes later I found myself sat on the bed that I was to call my own for my stay here. Two shades had guided me here, like horrifying, silent footmen. I let out a long sigh, and closed my eyes, trying to calm my thoughts. They ran in a dizzying, endless loop, leaving me anxious and exhausted.

This baron was clearly a psychopath, chillingly cold, and deeply deluded. Or maybe the number of demons he had summoned and the consequent deals he had made had caused him to be this way. Nonetheless, I didn’t know how to help, magic or not. I didn't like blood magic personally, but it didn’t make the user ‘evil.’ Regardless the Baron was not good news. He blatantly wanted to kill, enslave, and torture. I couldn’t accept that.

I stood, a little shaky, and looked out the window of the room I was staying in. Dense forests lay beyond the garden walls, and what appeared to be a lake beyond that. Then again, in my life before, I grew up near a great lake. I think they would look more like an ocean to these people. However, there looked to be blinking lights on the other side. Perhaps a city. Maybe even Val Royeaux. If it was, I would be happy. No way a blood mage would go into Chantry central, not without using magic at least. I felt the beginnings of an escape plan.

As the weeks went by, I began to come to terms with this body. In fact, it took less than two months to get up to par with Victor’s and Adelaide’s training. 

And maker did it hurt.

Pain was not a welcome experience. It was something I could feel in the Fade, but it wasn’t the same. Muscles ached and bruises swelled, a few times I had scraped and cut up my knuckles while training, but it was different here; in the Material World, it was so much more…real. 

At first, I had felt strange and clumsy, now I could juggle more than three items at a time with ease. I do admit though, while learning, that I had bumped into a lot of things, and bruised my legs and toes more times than I could count.

Having basic needs again was also strange. Hunger was something that I didn’t think I missed in the Fade, but the food was so good. Other basic needs such as bathing and sleeping were familiar but strange to do again. 

It also seemed that getting out of this hell hole was going to be harder than I thought. He had random spots for demons to appear if you got too close to them. Even outside. As soon as you triggered it, he would come running. Usually, I would have dealt with the demons by the time he got there, so started to make a game out of it. More powerful demon traps appeared, and in different spots. I quickly learned how to recognise the signs of the traps and summoning circles, a shimmer on the ground, slight distortion in the air above. Nonetheless, triggering them only took one false step.

This day had gone by in a blur of intensive training, but it was late now, and the Baron was snoring soundly. Moonlight trickled through the tall windows in slanting beams, casting looming shadows in the corners. I edged down one of the mansion’s many winding hallways, stepping around a much older summoning circle. This place was truly trapped to the nines. I had never explored this area of the house, and it looked to be virtually abandoned. 

I looked at the circle for a moment, studying it. Finding his newer work was harder to spot and much more refined. This was old, the blood used in making the circle almost black with age, but the power still flowed from it. This circle must have been one of his first, it was messy and unpractised. 

Moving through any part of the manor was slow going because of the traps. Detecting and avoiding them took all of my concentration. I didn’t want the Baron to know I was lurking around the halls of his home. Granted the dust trail might be a tad noticeable. But I needed things to aid in my escape plan, and abandoned wings of the manor were useful. They might contain valuable, magical items, and, left untouched as they had been for so long, it was likely they wouldn’t be missed. 

I had largely been very lucky with my exploits; the Baron had a schedule that he stuck to like glue to paper, which made him easy to avoid. That way, I only had to deal with his retinue of shades.

He woke up at seven. ate breakfast and expected me to eat with him. I didn’t like these times as he expected to have an update on my progress in rehabilitating my body. He then would be in his study for the rest of the day until evening when he would have dinner in the library. I wasn’t expected to have lunch with him, in fact he didn’t want to be disturbed if it could be helped, but dinner was also mandatory. He would discuss the plans he was crafting in his study. I learned the most about him during dinner. He wouldn't talk about his family, but, strangely, expected me to act like a son, of sorts. 

He expected things of me that made little sense, given my apparent role in his plans. He expected me to spend time in the library to study magic, or to be out in the yard. I found it unsettling, it was almost as if he was trying to remember a different time. Then at around eleven in the evening he would retire for the night. Now, just because he had to sleep didn't mean the shades patrolling the halls had to. I had no desire for them to spot me sneaking around the manor at one in the morning, poking my nose where I shouldn’t. 

I reached the end of the hallway with a sigh of relief, only to be faced with a dusty, old, oak door. Small scraps of gold filigree still clung to it, though most was rubbed away by time. I tried the handle on a whim, and the door swung silently open.

The room beyond was, small, dark, and cramped, a storeroom of some sort perhaps, but the only thing inside was a tall, rectangular object shrouded in a sheet. Maybe a mirror, or a painting? My curiosity getting the better of me, I reached up and tugged the sheet free, suppressing a sneeze at the clouds of dust it shed. I gasped as I saw what lay beneath.

A family portrait.

A beautiful woman and the Baron stood side by side with a little boy between them. Immediately, questions flooded my mind. Who was she? His wife? Was that their son between them? Where were they now? Was he practising blood magic when the painting was made? The Baron looked much younger here and the fashion of Orlais had clearly changed since then. His face was in full view. I sighed. I didn't need to see this. All it gave me was more questions than I had answers. I hastily replaced the sheet, my hands trembling slightly, then I all but fled. I left barely any sound as I went.

Curiosity was the bane of my existence. I couldn't get the painting out of my head. There was just something about it I couldn't put my finger on. Whoever the other two in the painting were, there was no sign of their existence within the manor other than a few items here and there. Of those few that remained, most were packed away in hidden crates; I assumed the rest had been destroyed. It seemed that the Baron didn't want to see reminders of them.

One such forgotten item that I discovered on another of my night-time explorations was a bedroom vanity. It was old and covered by a sheet like most of the abandoned things in this place. It was white and ornately carved. A variety of things remained on it: a jewellery box and an assortment of makeup and perfumes. One curious sniff told me they had gone horribly sour. The stool was still intact as well. This was the first time I saw any hint of the Baron’s wife having existed at all outside the painting. I sat down at the vanity and took stock of what I could see. She had enough to be a lady, that was for certain. I looked up at the mirror, it was tarnished and dusty, I picked up the sheet that had previously covered the vanity and wiped some dust off the mirror. Upon seeing my reflection, I froze, staring awe-struck into horribly familiar eyes. 

The person staring back at me was unmistakably an older version of the boy in the painting.

I sat stock still, unable to drag my gaze away, until the foyer clock chimed, startling me from my trance. 

New questions buzzed through my mind like angry hornets; was this truly the body of the Baron’s son, or was it simply a simulacrum? Had the boy died, or had my mind been forced into this body, destroying his? Still, it explained many of my odd interactions with the Baron, his insistence on spending time together, his stories, his reminiscing, his… My heart pounded roughly in my throat, and I felt sick to my stomach. I had to leave this place, and soon. 

By this point I had managed to gather quite an arsenal of items useful for my escape, which I had then stashed in my living quarters. I had collected a change of clothes—a simple white collared shirt, leather pants, and some soft soled leather boots. I also snagged a black jacket and scarf; I didn't need to be spotted in the middle of the night thanks to the luminous outline of a white shirt. 

I had managed to gather two maps, one I had created myself, and the other was torn from the pages of a dusty, historical account of Orlesian noble houses, in which I had managed to pinpoint the Baron’s mansion. The first was a crude etching of the manor with markers showing the locations of the current most dangerous demon summoning circles I had found. The second was a map of the local area. It may have been a bit outdated, but I found out the nearest town was Val Firmin not Val Royeaux, as I had originally thought. My plan was to reach that city. However, it was also the most obvious choice, so I would have to lay a false trail leading elsewhere, otherwise the Baron would be on my trail in mere hours. Unfortunately, this would mean a long trek through the thick woodlands, so I had some basic outdoor supplies: fire starters, matches, and a hatchet. 

I had fashioned a crude bag from a sheet to hold everything. It wasn't ideal, but it was something. I had also snagged a couple daggers from some suits of armour in the less used parts of this place, as well as some thread, and a collection of marbles, perhaps once a child’s playthings. I quickly turned my mind from that thought. 

Now, after almost two months of scavenging and my plans were almost complete. I began hurriedly gathering my supplies together, messily bundling everything into my sheet. I tucked the map of the area into my jacket’s inner pocket and snatched the other off the nearby bedside table. I muttered a brief incantation below my breath and flames leapt from my fingers, crumpling it to ash. I slipped the two daggers into my belt. It was time to make an escape, but first, there was the necessary matter of a little subterfuge.

I slipped through the door of my quarters, pleased to find the hallway clear of shades. I turned right, padding down the grand, entry staircase, my soft-soled boots near silent on the worn carpet. At some point, thick clouds had obscured the moon, leaving the foyer eerily dark. The shadows clustered in the high ceiling, an inky pool of black. I couldn’t help but imagine glowing, demon eyes observing me from within it. I shuddered at the thought and turned my eyes to my more immediate goal. 

The clock in the foyer was going to be a big help for the first stage, a distraction of sorts. I placed my bundle on the stairs, fishing through it until I found my thread, and little pouch of marbles. I looped the thread around the neck of the pouch in a loose hitch, before winding the remainder around the bannister leaving the marbles suspended over the foyer floor. I tiptoed down the rest of the stairs, looping the thread between the railings as I went, careful not to dislodge the marbles. 

I moved softly towards the towering grandfather clock, the true centrepiece of this room, and levered the glass door open, thankfully the baron hadn’t thought to lock it. I made a small noose, then slipped it over one of the chime pins, and pulled it tight. When the clock chimed the next hour, it would pull the thread, releasing a chaotic rain of marbles plummeting to the floor then bouncing and rolling every which way. This would be quite enough to activate at least a few of the summoning circles around the room. A simple but effective distraction. 

The next part of my plan was to deliberately activate one of the more deadly summoning circles at the edge of the Manor grounds, kill the demon and set off into the woods as fast as possible. Granted, I needed to make it look like I was going toward Jader and possibly Ferelden.

I gathered my belongings once more, and slipped through the front door, leaving it ajar so I would hear the chiming of the bells. The clock currently read quarter to three, leaving me fifteen minutes before all chaos erupted. 

I circled around the side of the house at a gentle jog, then came to a stop beside my target circle. It was large and elaborate, the power of the enchantment setting the hair on my neck on end with my proximity. I just hoped that it wasn’t going to spit out a Fear demon. They were enormous, and incredibly powerful, and I had no desire to face one on my own. 

Instead, I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and steadying my thudding heart. The night was eerily still, and I found myself straining to catch any sound of a disturbance. So it was that I all but jumped when the familiar chime rang out through the dark. I took another deep breath, dropping a hand to the dagger at my belt, and waited till it finished sounding, before stepping forward onto the circle. 

The calm was instantly shattered by a bone chilling scream, and I cursed under my breath. A terror demon. I turned myself invisible with a flick of magic, remembering Victor shouting at me to face my fears, but It had always been more metaphorical then. Still, it seemed I had little choice. I straightened my back, taking a poised stance, readied my daggers, and sent a surge of electricity crackling down my hands, setting the blades alight in a halo of purple energy. 

The terror certainly lived up to its name, with its slack, toothy maw, cluster of beady black eyes, and wickedly sharp claws. It moved with a painful, stiff shuffle, its twisted forelimbs hanging nearly to the ground.

It shrieked again, sending a spike of fear twisting in my stomach. I circled carefully around it, after all invisibility didn’t render me silent, yet it made no sign of turning as I moved. Once I was safely behind it, I sucked in a final deep breath, dropped to a crouch then hurled myself forward, jumping onto the back of the terror plunging the daggers in as far as I could. 

It immediately began to thrash, scrabbling with its clawed hands in an attempt to remove its unwanted passenger. Black ichor spewed forth from the wounds, coating my hands and leaving my grip precariously slippery. All I could do then was hold on for my dear life. 

It let out another howl. I knew just my enchanted daggers wouldn’t be enough to kill it. I clenched my teeth, and yanked the blades free from its back, dancing a few steps away from it, not enough to warrant it teleporting to me, but enough for me to cast a spell.

I took slow breaths as I thrust my daggers back into my belt to free my hands. 

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

Energy began to build within me, tingling its down my arms. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood upright.

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

I scrunched my eyes closed, locking the position of the Terror into my mind.

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

And the power of the storm burst forth from me.

The blinding purple beam struck the terror square in the chest, briefly paralysing it, before erupting into a crackling cage of light. It shrieked once more in fury, but I had no desire to wait around to face its wrath, so I turned on my heel and fled, dashing madly for the woods. There was no way that I would be able to kill the demon on my own in time to leave before the Baron saw me. Once far enough away from the manor I began the process of fade stepping to the ocean. 

The amount of mana that fade stepping to the lake drained from me was ridiculous. As the adrenaline wore off, the trembling set in, so it was with great relief that I found myself stumbling from the treeline onto a sandy shore. I would need to rest here, but not for long. First, I needed to make some simple preparations.

Thankfully, there was an abundance of dry driftwood, and with little effort I was able to coax a small fire from it, with minimal smoke. I had no desire to set up a beacon leading directly to my location.

I needed rest and food. I was not prepared for the amount of effort required to cast magic in the material plane. The fade moved to your every whim and with so little effort once you knew how to command it. Magic in the physical plane drained mana so quickly, and it was so slow to return. I now fully understood why lyrium was so important to a mage now. 

I cast my gaze back across to the trees stretched out behind me. I could see the manor from here, a speck of a shadow perched on a hill buried within the forest. I swallowed. The screams of the terror still echoed in my mind, and when I closed my eyes the Baron’s pallid face flashed before me, replaced with a younger, kinder version of that face, standing beside a young boy…I shuddered. Now was not the time for contemplation. 

I quickly changed my clothing from stiff noble attire to the black jacket, white shirt, leather pants and soft supple boots. The other clothes I threw into my fire.

I stuck to the beach on my journey to Val Firmin. I didn’t trust the roads right now, with the manor so close. As the days ticked by, I began to enjoy my time in Thedas. The night sky was a sight to behold. The two moons were bright and there were so many stars. It took my breath away when I actually paid attention to it. I felt a sudden desire to paint what I saw, for a moment I thought the idea strange but shrugged it off for now, maybe now that I didn’t have to worry about a blood mage breathing down my neck I could dabble in more creative fields. For the first time I began to imagine a future beyond just surviving.

Val Firmin was a quaint port town, permeated by the shouts and chatter of merchants and dockworkers alike, as well as the far less pleasant stench of fish. 

I was exhausted and thoroughly sandy by the time I made it to the centre of the town. It was busy, very busy. People dragging carts of fresh produce, merchant stalls with wondrous goods being sold: everything from fine silks to wine. 

“Two sovereigns, lad!” One of the merchants gestured enthusiastically at me. “Two sovereigns for a bolt of finest satin! You won’t find a better price anywhere in Thedas!” I brushed his offer aside with a weary smile, but then my heart sank. 

What had I been thinking coming here? I had no money to get a place to stay. I was tired and hungry, and I must have been swaying pretty badly because someone placed a hand on my shoulder while my eyes were closed. I opened them as soon as the person did and started at the figure before me. 

Peering down at me from within an ornate helmet was the concerned face of a templar.

"Are you all right, sir?" They spoke in Orlesian, not much of a surprise. "You look as if you haven't slept in days.” Now that I had gotten over my panic of meeting a templar face to face, I smiled sleepily.

"I am afraid I haven't. I was robbed last night and had just enough time to leave before the bandits took my life along with my money." I got a sympathetic look in return for my lie. Apparently, it was believable. Perhaps I looked the part of a merchant or at least his son.

"The Chantry here has plenty of space if you need a place to stay." I forgot about the Chantry. How stupid could I be! I said my thanks to the templar. I know that I, myself have magical talents, but if I kept them to a minimum, I should be fine.

It didn’t take me long to find the chantry in question, I simply had to look for the biggest and most ornate building in the town. Despite feeling all the strength leaving my limbs, I managed to open the door. Orlesian architecture sure was something. I admired the statues and carvings on the walls of the religious building as I walked. Eventually, I came to the pews and sat down. I sighed at how comfortable they were. I must have been pretty tired indeed if this hard, splintery bench felt suddenly like the height of luxury. 

I looked around the room. A few others were sitting in the pews praying quietly, their lips moving silently in worship. I mimicked their movements and pretended to pray. I didn't close my eyes, I didn't exactly feel like falling asleep in a pew. After a few minutes, I leaned back to stare at the ceiling. It was utterly covered in ornate paintings, depicting various tableaus of Andraste’s story.

"Child, are you in need of help?" A kind looking older woman came into my field of vision. She wore robes of the Chantry, not that of a sister, but of higher rank. I sat up and faced her.

"Yes, I am afraid to say that I was robbed just last night and have no money to purchase a bed from a local inn."

"Then you are more than welcome to stay with the Chantry, child. I am Revered Mother Annette. Come. I will show you to a room you may stay in as long as you like."

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is always a calm before the storm

**_Chapter 3_ **

I wanted to keep my time in this town minimal, but the people in this city where kind and finding work was not all that hard. During the day, I did mostly manual labour. I would help move things, lift heavy crates, or even work on construction sites. I also threw myself fully back into training, until every step, every gesture, every incantation, came as naturally as blinking. I now had more need of it than ever, as during the nights, I had taken up being a mercenary of sorts.

Insomnia plagued me near constantly, so I had taken to wandering the streets at night. On too many occasions I had stumbled upon roving bands of ruffians looking to pinch a little extra coin from any unsuspecting passers-by. When they had ignored my polite refusals to hand over my coin purse, I had settled things with a quarterstaff and a good deal of irritation. 

After the third instance, I had concluded that my skills could be put to good use here. So, at night I covered my face with a mask and hood and ventured out to enact a little vigilante justice. I might have been a tad paranoid, given the heavy templar presence. I had no desire to be dragged off to a Circle of Magi. Here, I was finally free, and I had no desire to change the fact. 

Tonight, I sat at the docks dressed in my mercenary attire. I wore dark leather armour over a black cotton shirt and leather pants with soft soled boots. A new set of daggers made a home on my belt as well as a sword. I thought it would be a good idea to make the previous set from the manor disappear. I had shelled out heavily for some new equipment and it set me back in getting to Val Royeaux. Armour and weapons were expensive, especially if you wanted decent equipment. 

I had other expenses to pay as well, such as clothes and food, also generous donations to the Chantry for providing a roof over my head. Revered Mother Anette had insisted I stay, and I had been loath to refuse. A room at the Chantry was almost certainly cheaper than most inns in the area, and I would likely be sharing my bed with fewer flees. 

She only ever asked once where I was at night. I had brushed her off with something about insomnia and walks, and she hadn’t pushed further. However, I later found potions sitting beside my bed. The label declared them sleeping draughts. It gave no further details as to what they contained and given some of the strange concoctions hawked around the markets here, I was hesitant to try drinking them. Thus, even as the twin moons sat high in the sky, I remained awake and alert.

I wasn’t particularly looking for work tonight. I had been in Val Firmin for two months now; the people that needed or wanted my services knew where to find me at this point. Instead, I sat on the docks, my feet hovering above the water below as I drummed my heels on the wall in time with a tune, I hummed softly to myself. It was a nursery rhyme, I think, but I couldn’t remember the words.

“Sir, you are the mercenary I have been recommended, yes?” A tall, slim man stood above me, flanked by three bodyguards. He was dressed in the latest fashions from Val Royeaux, all made from high quality cloth. A wealthy client, it was then. I ceased humming and stood to face them.

“Your contract please.” I spoke in a monotone drawl, with a thick, rural Orlesian accent. A mask wouldn’t hide my real voice, after all.

“Ah, right to the point.” The man made a motion and one of the guards approached and handed me a sheet of paper, folded, and sealed. I slipped my thumb beneath the wax, breaking it open, and cast my eyes over its contents. 

He wanted me to go deal with some mercenary company as an infiltration expert, breaking into the home of a local small-time, yet wealthy, lord. I scanned the page twice more, pondering the words written there. This wouldn’t be my first foray into this line of work, and thus far I had been largely successful. Provided, there were no magical traps or wards, with my magic at hand, it shouldn’t be difficult. Once I had broken and entered, I was to retrieve a precious artifact from within the landowner’s study. It didn’t say what it was, only that it was in a dark wood box, the lid engraved with a dragon curled around to swallow its own tail, like an ouroboros. I didn’t care for, or want, further details. The less I knew, the cleaner my hands. The pay was astoundingly good, though. I sighed. Apparently, the mercenary company was to serve as a distraction for me to get in and take the item. 

The location was also a few days journey from Val Firmin. I shouldn’t need more than a week to complete the task, even factoring in travel, and other potential surprises.

I scanned my way to the signature at the bottom of the contract. The mercenary band was called Fisher’s Company. I had heard rumours of them over the past months, and it seemed their leader left something to be desired. No matter, I was sure I could manage myself quite well.

“I agree to the terms. I will leave tomorrow.” The guard next to me pulled out another letter.

“That is for the Captain of the mercenary company. Hand it to him as proof of who you are,” the rich man said. I nodded and took the envelope from the guard. I had quite the trip ahead of me.

Explaining my absence to Mother Annette had been easy, I claimed to be attempting to retrieve any of my family’s heirlooms that might have been left behind after the bandits took everything of mine they assumed to be of value. I didn’t expect to get anything for my troubles, but it was worth a shot to see if anything remained. She gave me a gently pitying smile, and some bread and cheese from the Chantry for the road. I accepted it gratefully, despite already having acquired travel rations. I had learned not to deny her fussing. 

I had replaced the black jacket with a navy blue one some weeks back and had also purchased a new shirt and waistcoat. It was nice to finally have clothes that were mine; a small pleasure I still found time to revel in. 

A few hours out of town I would have to dress in my mercenary equipment, it wasn’t safe to travel any other way. My cover story, did after all, have a modicum of substance: the roads were crawling with bandits, and my jacket would do little to stop an incoming arrow or blade.

It took me a full day to get to the Fisher’s Company camp. I had drawn on my magic to expedite my journey, but quickly dropped it when I spotted the flicker of campfires in the distance. I walked up to the mercenary camp, making no effort to hide my presence. These did not seem like the sort of folks who enjoyed being startled. 

“Halt! Who goes there?” I could see several people at the edges of the camp all aiming bows at me. I sighed.

“I am here as an independent contractor, an infiltration expert. I have a letter as proof of identification for Mr. Fisher,” I stated loudly in Orlesian. Whispers spread around the camp for a moment and a man bearing an impressive handlebar moustache and clad in plate armour walked up to me.

“The letter, boy.” I sighed and pulled it from my inner pocket. He took it from my hands a little roughly. He broke the seal and scowled as he scanned the page. “Well, about time you showed up,” he huffed in annoyance. His breath had a distinctly fishy note, which mixed unpleasantly with the smells of smoke and body odour wafting off him. I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose.

The camp was full of a wide variety of people. I spotted a man hunched beside a fire. He was enormous, with shoulders twice as broad as mine. His skin had a grey tint, and two great horns jutted from the sides of his skull. When he turned towards me, I saw that one eye was covered by a patch. He was clearly Qunari. I had only read of these people in Gwen’s library, but had yet to encounter them in person. I didn’t know too much about them at all. I tore my gaze away from him, not wanting to appear rude. A human man sat next to him, as well as an elven woman leaning on a staff, and a dwarf who appeared to be tinkering with some sort of alchemical experiment. Their gear was battle-worn, and many of them bore deep scars. They were clearly experienced combatants. 

“Tall and lanky, you gonna stand and stare at all of us all night, or are you gonna have a drink?” The Qunari spoke out snapping my attention back to him. He faced me now with a smirk on his face. He was observant to say the least. The others looked up at the sound of his voice, then turned to follow his gaze, taking me in with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. I shrugged and moved to join them beside the fire pit. I took an empty seat on a half-round log.

“Here. Have a drink.” The man next to the Qunari handed me a mug of what I assumed to be either ale or spirits. His accent was Tevene. “I’m Krem, by the way, and the big lug is The Iron Bull.” I took the proffered mug with a nod.

“Merci, Krem,” I said with a tight smile, then I addressed the Iron Bull. “I am curious, forgive me, but I am from a rather small town, and I must ask, how did a Qunari and man from Tevinter end up here?” Krem smiled sorrowfully at me.

“Now that’s a story isn’t it Krem.” Iron Bull gave Krem a big pat on the back, making him wheeze.

“Yeah Chief. Look it’s a lot on my part in this story.” I nodded my head in understanding. Sometimes you didn’t want to share your life story. I certainly didn’t want to share mine, minimal though it was. Krem could keep their story all they wanted.

“I won’t pry,” I said. “We all carry tales we do not wish to tell.”

Krem shot me a look of surprised gratitude. “Uh, thanks. Well, long story short, the Chief and I met at a border town in Tevinter at a tavern. I was attacked by a Tevinter tribune and his men for deserting. Bull here came in between me and the guys flail. He saved my ass but lost his eye.” 

“That is impressive. Leaving one's home no matter what kind of experiences is a difficult thing to do, but here you both are ever stronger for it.” Krem had an easy smile that I liked; it carried a great warmth and kindness.

“You’re not a bad guy, for a glorified thief.” Iron Bull said in a teasing tone. I clasped my chest in false shock.

“How rude! I am hardly just a thief.” I paused for a moment and placed my hand on my chin as if in thought. “Though I do suppose that this job is just a glorified thieving mission. I didn’t have the heart to tell the man that I could safely get the item he desired without the distraction. That would have not given any of you pay, who am I to judge a noble on spending more money than he knows what to do with?” I shrugged.

“You talk a lot too, once given the chance.” Iron Bull laughed a hearty laugh. “Do you have a name Infiltration Expert?”

“None that I have… chosen yet.” Iron Bull nodded his head in response, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

“Well that won’t do, you need a name if you want people to hire you. Gives something for people to look for. Like the Iron Bull. Good, right? Gives people a certain impression. And don’t you go forgetting the 

‘The.’ That’s the important bit. Makes me sound less like a person, and more like a weapon to be wielded in battle.” 

“You might not be a weapon, but you’re definitely a tool,” Krem muttered beneath his breath, and I stifled a chuckle.

“I would think the Iron Dragon would be more impressive.” I thought out loud. The Iron Bull sputtered for a moment. Krem laughed at him and a few others in the company joined in.

“Shit that’s good! Why didn’t I think of that?!” The Iron Bull said. 

The remainder of the evening passed in drinking and easy conversation. If I weren’t careful, I could find myself rather warming to these people.

The next morning, I was up with the cook helping make food. It gave me something to do; it was better than lying around doing nothing and pretending to sleep. Captain Fisher was one of the first few awake with the cook; the sun had not yet risen. Only when food started to smell good and the sun was up, did everyone else start to move. The Captain gave a resoundingly dull speech about the upcoming mission over breakfast. I tuned out most of what he said, instead staring absently at my increasingly cold bowl of porridge. 

With the briefing, and follow up questions over, I left the washing up to someone else, and packed up my kit with practiced ease. 

As I was about to haul my pack onto my back, the Iron Bull’s deep voice rang out across the campsite: “hey, Thiefy, you arrived without a horse, right?” He approached with his own horse. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, contemplating my next words.

“It is fine I will arrive at the desired location before you regardless.” I didn’t want to say directly that I could use magic to expedite my process. Also, I didn’t know how to ride a horse, a fact I certainly don’t need these people to know.

“Yeah sure, why don’t you just say you’re afraid of horses and share with Krem.” I sputtered at The Iron Bulls conclusion and protested that no, I wasn’t afraid of horses, okay maybe the height that I would be at up on a horse, more so falling off and hurting myself but regardless not afraid of horses. I huffed at The Iron Bull as he laughed at me for my reaction.

“Fine, but if I fall off and die, I blame you.” I marched off to find Krem. I ignored the Iron Bull’s guffaw as I left.

Krem was at the edge of the campsite, loading bags onto a decidedly mountainous steed. It gave him a baleful side-eye as he moved to tighten its girth. There was malice in that gaze. I was sure of it. I swallowed past my slightly dry throat, and I shuffled from foot to foot again.

“Oi Krem, the Thiefy here wants to ride with you, be careful though, he is afraid of horses.” I hissed under my breath and crossed my arms. Krem laughed and held out his hand for my bag. I sighed over dramatically and handed it to him. This was not going to be fun.

“It is not my fault horses are dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle,” I grumbled. This earned me a hearty chuckle from both of them.

Our destination was most of a day of brisk riding away, so it was already dark as we crested the final hill.

The manor sat on the horizon, a squat, hulking shadow, with only the occasional flicker of candlelight visible behind un-shuttered windows.

Thankfully, Krem’s horse had proved to be almost amiable, so when we arrived, I was only mildly grouchy and saddle-sore. My dismount was an awkward one. I slid gingerly sideways and landed hard on shaky legs. I caught the Iron Bull eyeing me shrewdly, with just a hint of a grin. I glanced away quickly. I was not in the mood for more teasing. 

We left the horses tethered in a small copse at the outskirts of the estate, and our bags with them. I retrieved my sword and twin daggers and reattached them securely to my belt. The company around me were also gathering their weapons, sharing jokes and words of encouragement, as well as small red flasks containing a clear red liquid that I assumed were healing potions. 

It was time to take my leave.

The sun had well and truly sunk below the horizon at this point, leaving the vast swathes of grounds before me lit only by what weak trickle of moonlight could seep through the cloud cover. The cloaking dark made my approach almost easy. 

The manor sat high on a sweeping hill, surveying the surrounding lands with what felt like an air of disapproval. It was a great, hulking, brick affair, with sharply angled roof lines, and perhaps too many ornamental pillars to be considered entirely tasteful. 

It wasn’t long before I was enveloped in its long shadow, my feet making soft scrunching noises on the grass already dusted with frost. The manor’s façade rose high before me, the hollows of dark windows glaring down at me like empty eye sockets. I shuddered, unable to shake the sensation of being watched. 

I muttered a few words beneath my breath, and felt the familiar, warm flush of magic wash over me. I glanced down to see the dark, gloved shapes of my hands fade away to invisibility, with nothing but a slight flickering distortion of the air to give them away.

Now able to move more freely, I reached the manor in a matter of minutes, and pressed my back into the rough stonework with a silent sigh of relief. I shuffled around the side of the building, my eyes probing the dark for any sort of entrance. My efforts were rewarded sooner than I had hoped in the form of an old, oak door sequestered around the rear of the manor. I scrabbled through my belt for my set of lock picks, but I had scarcely slotted them into the keyhole, when the door gave way before me, apparently unlocked, and I just managed to avoid a spectacular faceplant. 

The first knot of concern coiled into my stomach. This was much too easy.

The room I had not quite broken into turned out to be a kitchen, as evidenced by the great iron aga, and a hap-hazard pile of boxed turnips in one corner. 

Still, I was unlikely to find any valuable items in the kitchen. It was time to head to the upper floors.

Everything remained silent.

The second floor stank of poorly applied wealth and bad taste. Gold filigree snaked across the wallpaper, coiling around jewel coloured birds, visible even in the dim light. Orlesian lions danced across the walls, and littered hallway tables as statuettes, their jaws gaping in silent snarls. The carpets that ran the length of all the second-floor hallways was so obscenely fluffy, it curled over the ends of my boots, and quite masked the sound of my footsteps. It told a very different story to the Baron’s rundown wreckage.

Ten minutes of creeping slowly down long corridors, cracking open doors to peer into dark rooms in search of a study, and I was beginning to tire of the whole business. The house was nothing but a gaudy labyrinth, with unflattering portraits of past Divines and Sovereigns leering down at me. But my boredom was soon overturned as the first shouts of alarm echoed up from the courtyard below. It seemed the distraction had begun. It was time to pick up my pace.

Just as I was about to take another step forward, a door burst open beside me, and a small, night-gown clad figure stepped into the hallway. She clutched a lamp in one hand, and her hair spilled from under her nightcap in dark curls. I stood completely frozen in place as her eyes skated over me, unaware of my invisible form. My heart thumped so loudly in my ears I was terrified she might hear. The last thing I wanted was for her to spot me and raise the alarm, though nor did I have any desire to clock her upside the head, and wrestle her unconscious form into a nearby wardrobe to hide my tracks. 

She muttered something under her breath, which would likely have been frowned upon coming from the mouth of an aristocrat, and set off at a brisk march so close to me the hem of her nightie brushed the side of my boot. 

As her mutters of annoyance grew distant, I allowed myself to breathe a deep sigh of relief. 

I slipped past the now partially open door, and headed for the end of the hall, now moving with a good deal less care, as the shouts were joined by the cacophonous clangs of clashing weapons. 

The final door was painted in an off-white reminiscent of curdled milk, and trimmed with embossed, gold grapes, the reasoning for which quite escaped me. I tried the handle, which didn’t budge. 

After a few tense minutes of prodding with lockpicks, it finally sprang open with a deep, satisfying, clunk, and I peered cautiously into the room beyond.

A dark, heavy desk occupied the back of the room, in front of a window. Velvet curtains had been drawn most of the way across it, with a single sliver of light cutting between them, giving me just enough light to spot my prize.

I pushed the door open fully and made my way towards the box in question. It sat, an indelicate lump of a thing, to one side of the desk, inky mahogany just as the briefing had described. It was smaller than I had expected, barely larger than my hand. But more importantly, the lid was roughly carved in the unmistakable form of a great scaled beast. Its eyes were no more than dark slashes, its back was lined with wicked spines, and its tail curled upwards, the end clasped in its mouth. There was no doubt that this was the item I was after. I resisted the urge to pry it open, not that I was sure I could have, given the absence of any visible hinges or latch. Before my curiosity got the better of me, I snatched it up, and shoved it unceremoniously into my coat pocket.

It was about time I made an exit. All I had to do was follow the sounds of fighting and hope I didn’t stumble into any more wandering aristocrats. 

My departure was much speedier than my arrival, especially as it seemed the entire guard company had flocked to the courtyard at the front of the manor, and its inhabitants had locked themselves securely into their rooms. It seemed the distraction was working as intended. 

However, my relief was short lived. 

The battle raging was a fierce one. These guards were no lily-livered rich folk looking for a chance to don some shiny armour and carry a sword. They were clearly accomplished warriors in their own right, and Fisher’s company was suffering for it. 

I picked up my pace, sprinting pell-mell towards the action. There was no sign of Fisher himself, but the Iron Bull and Krem were fighting stoically, back to back. Krem had a deep gash across one cheek, and blood ran down his face, soaking his shirt scarlet. Bull was also soaked in a generous splattering of blood, though it was less clear who it belonged to. 

I yanked my sword from its scabbard, dropping my invisibility as I went. One of the guards blinked in astonishment at my sudden appearance. I took the opportunity to get withing stabbing range of him and bring the flat of my blade hard against the side of his head. He gave an odd gurgling, cough, and dropped to the ground, unconscious. I had no desire to kill unnecessarily. But any relief I may have felt was promptly dashed to pieces, as a terrible scream rose behind me. I whirled on the spot, instinctively reaching out to my connection with the fade, pulling its energy around me. One member of the company had been locked in battle with a guard, but as my gaze met his, I felt my stomach drop. The guard’s sword had found its mark below his leather breastplate, plunged up through his belly in a wound I knew no mortal could survive. Time seemed to slow, and I watched his eyes wide and terrified. He opened his mouth perhaps to yell in pain, but no sound came forth, only a trail of blood. 

He looked so young, so frightened, alone. I didn’t even know his name. 

The iron tang of it rolled over, me and my stomach lurched. My mind flashed back to another manor, another night, the baron’s spittle filled grin, his hands coated in blood, bodies littering the floor…

Then the guard wrenched his sword free, and time resumed. The sound of battle came crashing back to me, and I unleashed the spell I’d been holding with a yell of my own. It enveloped the guard in a sparking cage of lightening, holding him locked in place. I spun, my sword raised, to parry a strike from behind me. The battle had become a blur, stab, slice, dodge, throw a spell, move away, and repeat. The smell of electrocuted flesh lingered in the air. I could feel the magical exhaustion settling into my bones.

“Well, look who’s joined us!” Bull’s voice roared out. It seemed my magic had caught his attention. “Got what we came for?”

“Yes! All secured.” I twisted out of the way of another of my opponent’s strikes. “Time to make ourselves scarce, I think.”

“Retreat!” The cry went out in Fisher’s nasal tones and was soon echoed by others in the company. 

The rhythm of the battle began to change, as the company fought their way free, some on the edges of the fight simply turned on the spot and began to sprint for the trees.

I reached for what little mana I had left, feeling the veil warp and bend around me, as I gathered my magic in a wave behind me, launching myself free of the fray, into the dark of the grounds ahead. It was short lived, however, my magic utterly depleted, I joined the mercenaries in their flight, my legs trembling beneath me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Heavy footsteps thundered beside me, and I glanced over to see Bull swiftly gaining on me, the manor guards spread out behind us in hot pursuit.

Bull shot me a broad grin, which I didn’t return. I still couldn’t shake the look in the young mercenary’s eyes, the sudden certain knowledge of his own death. I stumbled, but Bull was beside me, catching at the back of my coat, and half carried, half pushed me towards the copse where we’d left our horses. 

“Holy crap, you’re like the calm before the storm and the storm all piled into one, aren’t you? Never would have picked you as a mage.”

I merely grunted an answer. I didn’t have the breath to get into this discussion.

Then the grove was upon us.

We hurtled through the trees, and I nearly sagged with relief at the sight of Krem, already atop our horse, beckoning me urgently. Bull launched me towards him, and I made a clumsy scramble up onto the horse’s back, and barely had time to grab a hold of Krem’s waist, before we were off, flying into the dark ahead. 

The pursuit didn’t last long, with the guards on foot, and a couple of hours later, we were slowing to an easy canter. Fisher’s company was now largely reunited but for a few conspicuously riderless horses. It seemed the boy I had watched die wasn’t the only loss.

As dawn drew near, we made camp, though with no fires this time. We had no desire to send up smoke signals, but it hardly mattered. Instead I sat nibbling on some cold rations, staring into the night through unfocused eyes.

The Iron Bull seemed to come out of nowhere. I was taken off guard and felt myself startle. For a big man he could be quiet when he wanted. 

“So, you’re a mage, huh?”

“What on earth would make you think that?” I said, with a tired grin.

Bull chuckled. “It might have something to do with the crazy bolts of lightning and shit I saw coming out of your hands in that fight.”

“That would be a reasonable assumption, then I suppose.”

“Tales of the ‘Fury of the Storm’ will be all over these parts before you know it.”

“I could do without the fame, but I must admit, ‘the Storm’ has a nice ring to it.”

It would be L’Orage in Orlesian. It certainly sounded like a proper secret identity, a mask beyond the clothes I wore, another layer of vital disguise.

“I think I should thank you Iron Bull. L’Orage has a nice ring to it, I think I will use that.” The Iron Bull chuckled and patted me on my back too hard. I coughed.

“You’d better give me credit when you use it then, L’Orage.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said with a tired grin.

“I assume you’ll be off on your own tomorrow?” Bull asked.

I nodded. “No need to keep my client waiting.”

“In that case, L’Orage, I wish you luck. Write to me if you like. We could all use a friend or two in these trying times.” 

“Thank you. I just might do that,” I said.

“Good,” Bull said. “And if I don’t see you before tomorrow morning, the best of luck to you, and tell your idiot client ‘fuck you’ from me.”

He shot me a wry smile, and stood, moving away into the dark.

And then I slept, utterly dreamless, for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I can use notes here to talk to my lovely readers. I thank Liv once more for being an amazing editor! I love her, check out all her lovely art on her twitter @livjnoodles!
> 
> Next: look this story has 12? chapters written and Liv and I are working on cleaning them up and making them more presentable. However the more I see "no beta we die like men" tag makes me want to just post the first second drafts of most of these BUT I would not subject my heart to the cruel fate of having posted subpar work.
> 
> Comment, talk to me, let me know what you think so far! Do you like Zachary and all his pride? His fear of horses was unexpected but still amusing for me. Really if there is something that interests you, in the context of this story, comment and let me know! 
> 
> Also Kudos are also lovely! Click the button if you liked this story!


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